All followed suit; Yoomy doffing turban and sash; and, at last, completely metamorphosed, we looked like Hungarian gipsies.
Voyaging on, we entered a bay, where numbers of menials were standing in the water, engaged in washing the carved work of certain fantastic canoes, belonging to the Tapparians, their masters.
Landing at some distance, we followed a path that soon conducted us to a betwisted dwelling of bamboos, where, gently, we knocked for admittance. So doing, we were accosted by a servitor, his portliness all in his calves. Marking our appearance, he monopolized the threshold, and gruffly demanded what was wanted.
“Strangers, kind sir, fatigued with travel, and in need of refreshment and repose.”
“Then hence with ye, vagabonds!” and with an emphasis, he closed the portal in our face.
Said Babbalanja, turning, “You perceive, my lord Media, that these varlets take after their masters; who feed none but the well-fed, and house none but the well-housed.”
“Faith! but they furnish most rare entertainment, nevertheless,” cried Media. “Ha! ha! Taji, we had missed much, had we missed Pimminee.”
As this was said, we observed, at a distance, three menials running from seaward, as if conveying important intelligence.
Halting here and there, vainly seeking admittance at other habitations, and receiving nothing but taunts for our pains, we still wandered on; and at last came upon a village, toward which, those from the sea-side had been running.
And now, to our surprise, we were accosted by an eager and servile throng.